A Sword to Pierce the Sun
by FabledBearcat
Summary: When a member of the noble house Trevelyan gets thrown into the middle of a deadly crisis, it is up to him and a rag-tag team of the faithful and the desperate to bring order and peace back to the world.
1. Chapter 1: Wrath of Heaven

Wrath of Heaven

The pain in Nicholas Trevelyan's left hand was intense enough to ensure him that he was still alive. It throbbed and burned, the pain spreading out through his veins into the rest of his body like a poison. A sudden blast of heat and agony raked through him and he let out a strained, weakened cry. He was aware of every muscle, every bone, every inch of his skin as it all burned and itched. Slowly Nicholas opened his eyes and turned his head to give a quick glance at the soldiers on all sides of him. They had their swords drawn, pointing them in his direction but he could not have fought against them even if his wrists weren't in shackles. The floor was cold and hard against his knees and he wanted nothing more than to press his burning hand to the stone, seeking any relief.

"Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just," he prayed to himself, his tongue swollen and stiff with dehydration, his lips cracked and bleeding. The weight of his predicament was finally pressing into him. Andraste guide him to the side of the Maker.

The door in front of him burst open and a bright light filled the dim room causing Nicholas to flinch back and attempt to shield his eyes. Two figures stormed into the room, the first one roughly grabbing his shackles and examined his hand as it let out another burst of heat and green light. Nicholas tried to bite back his groan of pain, but failed. He managed to look up at his captor and met eyes with one of the hardest looking women he had ever met. Had Andraste forsaken him? Her eyes were cold and dark, her cheekbones high and prominent. She had several facial scars that left her looking even more intimidating than she might have had otherwise… He had stared into the maws of wolves and felt braver.

The woman leaned close to his ear and said sharply in an accent he firmly placed as Nevarran, "Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now. The conclave is destroyed… Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you." Her eyes narrowed and Nicholas quickly shifted his gaze over to the other who had walked in. She looked hard, but in a different way. By her dress he could tell she was some sort of spymaster or assassin where the other was a soldier of some sort. Nicholas felt a panic rising in his chest as his fight or flight instincts crept upon him. His eyes flitted back to the warrior woman and he clenched his jaw. He would not give her the satisfaction of seeing him weak but he felt naked without his armor or bow.

"Do you really think I did this?" he growled out, his voice raspy and harsh from underuse and a dry throat.

"If you did not, then explain this." As the warrior replied his hand let up again and this time Nicholas let out a growl as she roughly released his shackles.

"I can't, and at this point even if I could, I wouldn't." Nicholas was feeling the panic claw at the inside of his chest. It was making him agitated, desperate. He wanted either to be released or killed.

"What do you mean you _can't_?" The warrior's voice was marked with a tinge of hopelessness as she and the assassin circled around him.

 _Two ravens waiting to feast upon my flesh. Maker, end this now and let me rest._

"I don't know what it is or how it got there," Nicholas answered aloud. "If I had any idea do you think I'd be in this much pain?"

The woman was suddenly in his face, snapping as the words, "You're lying!" came from her lips. Instinctively Nicholas made a reach for his dagger but his arm moved only slightly. He did not need to attempt to defend himself, however, as the assassin came to his aid. She put a hand on her aggressive companion and pushed her back.

"We need him, Cassandra," she said, her voice softer than the warrior's. Nicholas frowned, wondering if this was some of sort of 'good guard, bad guard' routine.

"Whatever you think I did, I'm innocent," he said firmly, trying to glare at the two women with equal intensity. He was sure he looked pathetic, though, wrists bound together, unable to move.

The assassin stepped closer to him and said in softer tones, "Do you remember what happened? How this began?"

Nicholas tried to think back, tried to focus past the throbbing in his mind. "I… remember running. I was being chased by—"He could remember clearly _what_ was chasing him, but he knew that was irrelevant. "—things. And then, there was a… woman…" Was that right? His mind was foggy, confused. What would a woman be doing there, of all places?

The spymaster seemed to share his surprise, parroting his final two words as if hoping to jog his memory but it was swiftly fleeing from his grasp.

"Aye… She reached out to me, but then…" Before he could finish his thought the warrior, Cassandra, interrupted him. She stepped between him and the spymaster, walking her back towards the door.

"Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take him to the Rift." The words startled Nicholas. The thought of being out in the open air excited him, but he was so weak… And Maker only knew what would happen to him once they got there.

The one named Leliana nodded and walked out while Cassandra stepped up to him and reached down to grab his shackles. She removed them and pulled him roughly to his feet.

"What… What _did_ happen?" Nicholas asked as he struggled to get his feet planted firmly underneath him. His feet felt numb and now that he was upright his entire being hurt more than ever. Would he even make it to where ever this Rift was? He tried to picture this Cassandra carrying him there, and he would have laughed if he wasn't so afraid that it might actually come true.

Cassandra looked him in the eyes for a long moment before saying, "It will be easier to show you." She tied his wrists together with rope and led him out of the room. Nicholas blinked quickly in an attempt to adjust his eyes to brighter light and he stumbled a few times before his legs remembered how to walk. She led him through the dungeon, up some steps—which he fell upon, but only once—and down a short hallway that led to two heavy wooden doors. These were swung open as he and Cassandra neared them, day light flooding the entry way.

At first all he could see was snow settled among stone paths and on top of wooden roofs. As he stepped further out, however, his eyes moved upward and he stopped in awe at the view before him. The clouds were a tempest over the land as far as his eyes could see. They swirled in a vast circle, the middle of which glowed a bright green. From the middle flowed a green light, looking like a tornado made of green water as similarly colored lightening flitted through the clouds.

"Maker's breath…" he gasped, unable to believe or comprehend the sight before him.

"We call it the 'Breach,'" Cassandra's voice pulled his eyes down to look at her. She was in front of him, her back facing him as she gazed up at the hole in the sky. "It's a massive Rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It's not the only such Rift," she turned, facing him, her eyes connect his with again. Her brown eyes showed a determination… Nicholas was sure his own only betrayed his fear. "It is just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave."

Nicholas could have guessed that much, at least, but now was not the time for snarky comments. Still, he was surprised. "An explosion can do that? It can open Rifts like this?"

"This one did," she replied, "Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world."

As she spoke a burst of energy released from the Breach, pulsing out green light. Nicholas let out a yell of pain and collapsed to his knees as whatever was wrong with left hand reacted to the burst. The green light glowing from his hand matched the same shade of energy from the Breach. _Oh, good, and here I worried these would be two separate issues._ He gritted his teeth and willed his wit to overcome his pain and fear.

Cassandra dropped down to one knee in front of him, her voice becoming a bit more panicked than before. "Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads… And it is killing you."

"I could have told you that," Nicholas bit back, his voice tight with pain and fury at nothing and no one in particular.

Cassandra ignored him and continued, "It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time.

"If I can help, I will," Nicholas grunted, balling his left hand up into a fist and then relaxing it. He took a deep breath and then said softly, slowly, "'Let mine be the last sacrifice.'"

Cassandra raised an eyebrow at his piety, but said nothing of it. She moved to his side and helped him stand, letting him lean against her as he stumbled yet again. She led him through the village of Haven. Nicholas had remembered seeing it on maps, but had never been there. Now as he walked through the snowy landscape he felt the angry, accusing glares of guards and civilians piling upon him. He furrowed his brows, but kept his head and his eyes downward.

"They have decided your guilt. They need it," Cassandra said quietly to him as they walked through the gauntlet of glares. She kept a firm hand on his shoulder, leading him past the faces. Nicholas took a chancing glance up but quickly regretted it. He could not remember the last time he saw such malice on anyone's face… "The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between Mages and Templars."

"Why the history lesson?" Nicholas grunted. "I know all of this. Do you think I was born in the Fade?" He was rewarded for his cheek by a sharp shove forward which almost sent him sprawling to the ground. Only the strong hand of Cassandra kept him upright, but he had half a mind to drag them both into the dirt.

"She brought their leaders together," the warrior continued, as if he had said nothing and she had not retaliated. "Now, they are dead." They approached a wooden gate which was swung open by guards to allow them to pass. "We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did, until the Breach is sealed." They came to a stop on the stone rampart and while Nicholas took a moment to look at the scenery around him, Cassandra pulled out a dagger. She eyed him for a moment, almost as if contemplating where best to shove her blade, before beginning to cut the robes binding his wrists.

"There will be a trial. I can promise no more. Come… it is not far."

"Where are you taking me?" Nicholas shook his hands to get blood flowing back into his fingertips before gently rubbing his wrists. His eyes wandered to look at the palm in his left hand, but whatever the Mark was, the sight made him sick and he forced himself to look away.

"Your Mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach." She spoke so matter-of-factly, as if her words actually made sense to a sane human being.

"You want me to go use this… whatever it is in my hand on… Rifts? Fade Rifts? Am I understanding this correctly?" Nicholas frowned and showed no sign of moving, which clearly annoyed Cassandra. She did not answer him and instead began to walk forward. "Surely you don't expect me to do anything in my weakened state? I mean, I was in that dank dungeon for how long and not a single drink of water? No way to treat a Trevelyan if you ask me."

"I wasn't asking," she turned to him, angry. Digging into a pouch at her hip she procured a vial with a bright red liquid in it. "I heard stories about you, you know. You were supposed to be _brave_ and _fierce_." She tossed him the potion and he grabbed it out of the air, pulling out the cork with his teeth, before downing it in a quick gulp. The potion made his entire body tingle for a moment, and then he felt as if he had never even been at the Conclave. The effect would not last forever, of course, but it would certainly get him through the next few hours.

"I'm also supposed to be fed, watered, and allowed to run outside and play a few hours each day." Nicholas was not about to let her slight on him go without his own witty remark. "Now come on, chatty, let's get going." He began to walk across the ramparts to the far gate. As he passed Cassandra he heard her let out a noise of disgust from the back of her throat, and he could not help but smile. He was starting to like the 'bad guard'… even if he had the feeling that she wanted nothing more than to throw him back into the Fade where he came from.

The stone underneath Nicholas's feet were slick with snow. Soldiers on both sides of him, fresh from the front lines, were tending to their wounds and praying to Andraste. He whispered a silent prayer to the Maker as he passed them, most of them either ignoring him or giving Cassandra a curious glance. The gate at the far end of the rampart opened at the warrior's behest revealing a dirt path that began to twist around the nearby hills, through tall pines still green amongst the snow.

Nicholas and Cassandra maneuvered past manned defenses, stepped aside as retreating soldiers ran towards the rampart, and skirted past a raging fire on the roadside. The further they walked the more fires they saw and Nicholas mouth set into a grim line, his brows furrowing. He wished he was armed... Clearly there was going to be some fighting. As they continued along the path both the Breach and his Mark let out a burst of light. The sudden surge of pain brought the Trevelyan to his knees. The healing potion had made him forget the pain he had been in moments before. That was a mistake he would not make again. From behind him Cassandra rushed up and helped him stand, her grip gentler than it had been before—though that was not saying much.

"The pulses are coming faster now." She looked into his eyes for a moment before patting his arm and leading the way forward. "The larger the Breach grows, the more Rifts appear, the more demons we face.

"Well… shit." Nicholas had no choice but to follow her. "And here I am without armor or a weapon. Maybe these demons will have a weakness for sarcasm."

"Or silence."

"Now that doesn't seem likely at all." Nicholas smirked to himself as he followed Cassandra, but it didn't last. Try as he might, now was not a time for jokes. "So… how _did_ I survive the blast?"

"They said you… stepped out of a Rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the Rift behind you. No one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I suppose you'll see soon enough."

"Well at least I didn't imagine the part about the woman." They had begun to cross a sturdy stone bridge, Nicholas turning his head to take in the sight of the frozen river that, when thawed, would flow beneath them. Suddenly a flash of green light blinded him and the felt the bridge give out from under his feet as flying debris came down from the Breach and splintered the bridge like a twig. Nicholas collapsed with the rocks upon the unforgiving frozen surface below, Cassandra rolling down beside him. He propped himself up on his side, looking up in time to see more debris falling from the Break towards them, this time in the form of a demon.

Cassandra leapt to her feet at the sight of vaguely human monster, its face shrouded by a dark hood. Nicholas got up as well, but unlike the warrior he did not have a sword or shield. "Stay behind me!" she yelled, rushing towards the foul beast. Nicholas wanted to call her back but knew she would not suffer a retreat. He took a couple steps backward, carefully avoiding rubble, when he noticed black goop bubbling up from the ice. A quick glance over the shoulder showed him that he would not be empty handed for long. Andraste had not forgotten him after all.

Nicholas dove backward and slid the quiver of arrows across his back and readied the bow as the black substance gave birth to another demon. He fired an arrow straight into the beast's misshapen chest and it flinched backward. Seeming to determine that the prey in front of it was too feisty it turned to help its brother fight Cassandra. Nicholas knew that he could turn and run now, find a cozy cave, and stay there until the Mark in his hand killed him… or he could stay and fight Maker knows how many demons at the side of a woman who would probably sacrifice him upon an altar if it meant not having to listen to him talk again.

With a groan he moved forward and began to pepper the demon that had turned away from him in the back with arrows. It let out a roar and looked over its shoulder at him, contemplating fighting him instead, when he lodged an arrow into its face. It collapsed with another roar onto the ice and Nicholas looked behind it in time to see Cassandra finish off her demon with a final slice of her sword.

"It's over," he sighed, walking up to her as he took a quick look around to make sure no more demons were going to raid down from the sky or bubble up from the ground.

"Drop your weapon! _Now_." Cassandra's bloodied sword was shoved into his face and Nicholas took a reactionary step backward. His eyes widened as he looked at Cassandra and she glared at him, her lip curled up into a sneer.

"Alright, alright, have it your way." His voice was soft, cautious, as he slowly began to lower the bow onto the ice. As loathe as he was to part with it already, he did not wish to see his blood mingle with the demons'.

Cassandra let out a forced sigh and began to sheath her sword. "Wait." There was a pause and Nicholas did not move, watching her closely. "I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless." She walked towards a path that lead up from the river and Nicholas began to follow her before she turned and added, "I should remember you agreed to come willingly."

"Aye… well… good." Nicholas cleared his throat and followed her up the path. "So, Cassandra, where are all your soldiers?"

"At the forward camp, or fighting. We are on our own, for now." As she spoke they came upon the body of a dead soldier, and Nicholas frowned. Things obviously weren't going well for the defenders. They climbed a small hill and spied, on the frozen river, two more demons like the ones faced earlier. This time, however, the two humans had the advantage. They killed the demons quickly and continued on where they spied even more demons, this time however one looked like a floating green shadow. It was smaller than the other but swifter as it glided across the ridge above its companion who was on the ice below.

"Be careful," Cassandra cautioned as they paused to assess the situation. "That one attacks from a distance."

"Cassandra, you keep the larger bastard occupied. I'll go up and take care of the ranged demon." Nicholas knew that if they both attacked the larger demon then the other one could pick them off safely from a distance. Besides, he knew a few tricks to get up to it undetected.

"Who are you to give orders, now?" Cassandra raised an eyebrow, obviously displeased.

"Just trust me. You have the armor and the strength to tackle the big one, and I have the speed to take care of the wraith." There was a moment of silence between them before the warrior scowled but nodded. She charged forward on the frozen riverbed to attack the lesser shade while Nicholas shrouded himself in the shadows and moved up to flank on the wraith that was now focusing on Cassandra. He moved up behind it, readied an arrow and let forth a barrage of arrows that quickly overwhelmed the demon. It screeched and dissolved into nothingness. Nicholas gathered up what arrows remained and moved to the edge of ridge where he helped Cassandra finish off her lesser shade. As the second demon died she looked up at him and nodded approvingly.

They continued on, following the river, fighting what demons rained down from the Breach. None were strong enough to stop them and soon Cassandra said, "We're getting close to a lesser Rift! You can hear the fighting." Sure enough the yells of men and screams of demons were closer than they had been before.

"Who's fighting?" Nicholas asked, wondering if they were finally coming upon Cassandra's soldiers.

"You'll see soon. We must help them."

They reached a ruined rampart and Nicholas jumped down to a stone path below where two soldiers, an elf mage, and a dwarven archer were fighting several demons next to a green tear that was floating in the air. The sight of the Rift made Nicholas pause. Surely such a thing had to be impossible… There was a hole ripped into the air, a one-way door between the Fade and the real word. _Maker's breath… And I'm going to have to seal that?_

The two newcomers helped fight the demons. As the last one fell dead the elf grabbed Nicholas's left arm and pulled him towards the Rift.

"Quickly! Before more come through!" The elf took Nicholas's hand and pointed the palm towards the Rift. Suddenly the human felt a surge of power enter his hand and flow down through his arm as a beam of green light connected his Mark to the Rift. Nicholas drew the power out of the Rift for a couple seconds before the elf yanked his arm backwards and the Rift closed with a small blast.

"What did you do?" Nicholas asked, balling his left hand into a fist before relaxing it. His fingers tingled, but it did not hurt… that was a start.

" _I_ did nothing. The credit is yours." The bald elf looked shrewd, calculating, and powerful. Nicholas had never had much dealings with mages that weren't family, but for now he figured he could trust this one.

"So this thing is useful after all."

"Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that Mark upon your hand. I theorized that Mark might be able to close the Rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake—and it seems I was correct." The elf smiled at the end, looking pleased with himself. Nicholas was just glad the elf didn't get it wrong and make things worse.

Cassandra stepped forward as she said, "Meaning it could also close the Breach itself."

The elf gave a shrug. "Possibly. It seems you hold the key to our salvation."

Nicholas let out a short burst of laughter. "Don't tell my brothers that. They always said I have a big head, no need to give them ammunition for it."

For the first time the dwarf, who had been standing off the side, spoke up. "Good to know! Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever." He had dirty blonde hair tied up at the back of his head and both his shirt and coat were too small to button up the whole way, revealing a large and very hairy chest. The dwarf also had a crossbow at this back, a weapon that greatly interested Nicholas. Crossbows could be powerful, yes, but they were difficult to make properly and in the hands of an inexperienced user were often useless. Yet the dwarf had been a formidable ally in the fight. Whoever made that crossbow was a serious smith.

"Varric Tethras," he continued, stepping towards the others. "Rouge, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong." As he got to the part he gave Cassandra a wink, eliciting a dark scowl from the warrior. _Clearly these two have history_ , Nicholas shifted uncomfortably. _But at least I'm not the only one who can make her react like that._

"It's good to meet you, Varric. From one rouge to another, let me say that that is a nice crossbow you have there. I've never seen one like it before." Nicholas smiled, but it faltered a bit when Varric began to laugh.

"Don't make it weird, kid. But, yeah, Bianca will be great company in the valley." Before Nicholas could ask about the name Varric chose for his weapon, Cassandra cut in.

"Absolutely not! Your help is appreciated, Varric, but—"

"Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You need me." Cassandra made a noise of disgust and turned from the dwarf, defeated. _Yeah… these two have history all right_.

"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions." Nicholas was just glad there was an interruption from the awkwardness. "I am pleased you still live."

"That makes two of us, I suppose," Nicholas smiled.

"He means, 'I kept that Mark from killing you while you slept.'" Varric's interpretation surprised Nicholas. He had no idea that he had 'slept' at all. How long had he been out?

"Then I owe you my thanks," the human rouge nodded at Solas, appreciative.

"Thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process." Solas then turned to look at Cassandra who had stepped away from them, probably to keep from turning all of Varric into a holster for Bianca. "Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner—"

"I have a name too," Nicholas butt in, frowning. Solas ignored him, however, and continued on.

"—is no mage. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine _any_ mage having such power."

"Understood," Cassandra sighed. "We must get to the forward camp quickly."

Nicholas crossed his arms, a bit annoyed that he was not introduced to the others, as Varric walked past him and said, "Well… Bianca's excited!"

His frown dissolved and he let out a chuckle before following the worst equipped, most rag-tag party he had ever been a part of. They came upon another group of demons, this one supplemented by a more powerful greater shade. It gave them a bit more trouble than the others, but it too was finally brought to heel by the combined ranged effort of Varric and Nicholas. They continued along the path, Varric making a bit of small talk as they walked.

"So… _are_ you innocent?" he asked as Nicholas gave him a confused look.

"To be honest I don't remember what happened, but would you expect me to damn myself in front of my jailor?"

The dwarf laughed. "No, I suppose not, but you should have at least spun a story."

"That's what _you_ would have done," cut in Cassandra, displeasure in her voice.

"It's more believable, and less prone to result in premature execution."

"The Maker himself could not tell a story good enough to save me from the gallows," Nicholas sighed. Cassandra promised a trial, but he had a feeling his fate would be decided long before he was presented to his judge and jury. He glanced over at the warrior who was giving him a long, hard look. She did not seem angry or annoyed, but… confused and worried. They kept walking up the trail as Cassandra worried aloud about Leliana's safety.

"She's resourceful, Seeker," Varric reassured her, but Nicholas was not sure it did much good.

Solas had moved ahead to scout the trail and soon called back, "Another Rift!"

Nicholas jogged the rest of the way up their last hill to see that the elf was, indeed, correct. His Mark tingled as if electrified and began to glow as demons spawned from the opening in the Veil. There were soldiers stationed outside the gate to the forward camp who called to them for help, but the request was not needed. As soon as the demons appeared Nicholas and his party would pick a target and quickly end it until he was able to get close enough to seal the Rift.

The threat neutralized, Cassandra gave the order for the soldiers to open the gate. She led the three men across the rampart towards a man in Chantry robes leaning over a map spread across a crude wooden table. Leliana was standing behind him, looking less than pleased. Relief washed over her face as they approached and she stepped forward.

"You made it. Chancellor Roderick, this is—"

"I know who he is," the Chancellor snapped at her. Nicholas frowned, crossed his arms, and stood straight and tall. Whoever this Chancellor thought he was, he was sure rude. "As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution."

"So much for my trial," he growled, glaring at Chancellor Roderick. "Of course, the Chantry would be loath to lose the support of the Trevelyans, I am sure." He and the Chancellor locked eyes and exchanged dark looks, but Cassandra broke it with her own annoyance.

"'Order me'? You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!" Nicholas nodded, smirking. _You go, Seeker_.

"And _you_ are a thug, but a thug who supposedly served the Chantry!"

"We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know," Leliana corrected, but Roderick was not ready to step down.

"Justinia is dead! We must elect a replacement, and obey _her_ orders on the matter!"

"Isn't closing the Breach the more pressing issue?" Nicholas said, speaking firmly to get everyone's attention.

" _You_ brought this on us in the first place!" The Chancellor turned back upon him, pointing his finger at the increasingly infuriated Trevelyan. Cassandra stepped closer to the table as he said more calmly, "Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless."

"We can stop this before it is too late." Her voice, too, was calmer but it reminded Nicholas of the stillness of a viper before it would strike.

" _How_?" Roderick shook his head. "You won't survive long enough to reach the Temple, even with all your soldiers."

"We must get to the Temple. It is the quickest route."

"Yes, but not the safest," Leliana interjected. "Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains." Nicholas looked up at the Frostbacks above them and frowned. It would be cold and treacherous up there. There may be fewer demons, but it would certainly slow them down. Cassandra seemed to think in a similar vein.

"We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It is too risky."

"Listen to me," Roderick spoke again. "Abandon this plan now before more lives are lost!" As he spoke the Breach belched out more energy and light. The Mark reacted to it, but the pain was lesser… The power from the Rifts seemed to have made it at least a bit more tolerable. Still, it served as a reminder that while the Breach was still volatile the Mark was consuming him. Nicholas could feel everyone's eyes on him as his hand glowed and emitted small bursts of energy.

"How do _you_ think we should proceed?" Cassandra's words surprised Nicholas.

"Now you're asking for my advice?" He scratched the back of his as he looked up at the Frostbacks and then over at the Breach. "I say we charge. I won't survive long enough for your trial, if I am even to get one." He glared over at Roderick. "Whatever happens, happens now."

"Leliana," Cassandra ordered, jumping to action. "Bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone." She than began to lead them to the next gate. As they passed Roderick he let out one last biting remark:

"On your head be the consequences, Seeker." Nicholas saw her back tense, but she said nothing. He, on the other hand, was tired of the old codger.

"Just add it to your list of grievances against me. _I_ made the decision." Nicholas then turned his back on the Chancellor and caught up to walk beside Cassandra. She gave him a look of appreciation but he only scowled as he kept his eyes forward. That damned Breach wasn't going to kill Nicholas. Now he had to come back and it shove in that Chancellor's mug.

They began the walk from the forward camp to the Temple, soon meeting with a group of advancing soldiers. They fell into line with the party. Nicholas took a quick glance around him and realized with a start that he was at the head… everyone was following him. _The blind leading the fucking blind_. They continued forward, Nicholas walking faster, his heart thumping so loud in his chest he thought it almost echoed off the mountains. He realized that the forward camp that he saw was actually the tail end of the camp where the 'important' leaders were. Even closer to the Temple was a camp of soldiers going into and coming out of the worst of the fighting. As he led the group into the heart of this camp he was met by a tall, rugged looking Templar.

"Lady Cassandra? Thank the Maker, you made it," he said, immediately looking to her as he stepped up to them.

"The prisoner pulled more than his own weight along the way," she replied, looking over to Nicholas.

"Again, I have a name. Nicholas. Nicholas Trevelyan."

Varric laughed behind him and said quietly, "You're too important for a name anymore, _prisoner_."

"Well… I hope they're right about you," Cullen said as he eyed up Nicholas. "We lost a lot of people getting you here."

"I can't promise anything, but I'll try my best," Nicholas sighed. Great, more blood on his hands.

"That's all we can ask." Cullen's voice was soft, almost like he was saying a prayer. He turned back to Cassandra and returned to his soldierly manner. "The way to the Temple should be clear. Leliana will try to meet you there."

"Then we best move quickly," Cassandra said, looking to the three men she had been dragging along with her. "Give us time, Commander."

"Maker watch over you—for all our sakes." Cullen looked directly at Nicholas as he said his parting words before turning and barking order to his soldiers. Nicholas's hand was tingling in anticipation.

Cassandra led the way towards the middle of the Temple. The surrounding area had been cleared out from the explosion and they had to jump down from stone to what Nicholas could only describe as glass. The truth, though, was more disturbing. He did not want to think how many bodies made up the 'ground' beneath his feet and each step made a crunching noise that tightened his gut. Sporadically there were charred, burned bodies fused to the ground. Those that still had what could be loosely referred to as faces had looks of fear and horror. This was the stuff of nightmares. Still, he forced himself to look at each and every one of them. They were all his fault, all a part of his body count. Some were even family, though any discerned features they may have had were gone.

Hanging above the charred remains of the Temple and its inhabitants was a massive Rift, easily three times larger than the ones he had closed earlier. Directly above that, high in the sky, swirled the Breach.

"That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you," Cassandra said quietly to Nicholas who could only stare at the Rift with a sense of horrible fascination. They walked closer to the Rift in silence, passing more corpses and raging fires. They did not wait long for Leliana.

"You're here! Thank the Maker," she said, jogging up to meet them.

"Leliana, have your men take position around the Temple." Cassandra sounded most natural when she gave orders. Nicholas had to focus on her every move, her every word, or he feared he would vomit. He survived all this? Leliana nodded and moved to give the command to her men while Cassandra walked to stand beside Nicholas, Solas, and Varric on the other side of him.

"This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?"

"How am I supposed to get up to the Breach to close that?" he asked, looked high in the sky. He doubted a dragon could fly him up high enough.

"No," Solas shook his head. "This Rift below was the first, and it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach." _Oh well, that sounds easy enough_.

"Then let's find a way down, and be careful," Cassandra's voice sounded sure, but Nicholas caught her eye and saw a nervousness there that mirrored his own.

Nicholas looked around and saw what appeared to be path that wound down from where they were to the ground level just beneath the Rift. As a ranger he would have preferred to stay on the higher ground but he had to get closer to the Rift. He led the way on the path, but something in the Rift was reacting to their presence.

" **Now is the hour of our victory."** Said a male voice that was both everywhere and nowhere. It sounded familiar and foreign at the same time, and it sent Nicholas's heart racing. **"Bring forth the sacrifice."**

"What are we hearing?" Cassandra's voice shook, betraying her fear for the first time. At least she could speak—Nicholas did not trust himself to.

"At a guess: the person who created the Breach." Solas sounded calm… too calm. Was he resigned to the fact that he might die here, or was he just not afraid?

Nicholas kept walking, and as he did he saw strange, glowing, red rocks jutting up in large stalagmites.

"You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker." Varric's voice was quiet, cautioning, as if this red lyrium could come alive like an angry bear and eat them. _Actually… That would be the least surprising event of today._

Cassandra's voice went back to her hard, curt tone as she said, "I see it, Varric."

"But what's it _doing_ here?"

Solas had a possible answer, more than Nicholas did anyway. "Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the Temple, corrupted it…"

"Pah. It's evil. Whatever you do, don't touch it." Varric did not have to tell Nicholas twice to not go closer to the stuff. He wasn't sure if it was the lyrium or the Rift, but one of them made his head ache.

" **Keep the sacrifice still."** The all-and-nothing voice spoke again, and Nicholas tightened his grip on his bow.

" **Someone help me!"** This time it was a woman, crying for help. He furrowed his brow as he jumped down from a small ledge at the end of the path and stepped towards the Rift. His Mark began to glow and sizzle with energy but he felt no pain. He wanted to help whoever was calling, but… was it even real?

Nicholas's eye widened and he paused, staring at the Rift as his own voice came next. **"What's going on here?"**

Cassandra looked to him, her eyes wide as well. "That was your voice! Most Holy called out to you, but…" Before she could finish his Mark reacted with the Rift again, more explosively this time. A part of the Rift opened and a shadowy scene unfolded before them.

Nicholas watched as he—a shadow version of himself—ran up to Divine Justinia who was being held by some kind of magic force.

" **Run while you can! Warn them!"** Her voice, those words... They sounded correct but still his memory would not catch up.

" **We have an intruder."** The antagonist in the situation was completely shrouded in shadow, but he did not sound at all familiar. While Nicholas had heard Most Holy speak before the Conclave he had never in his life heard the voice of this man. **"Kill him. Now!"**

The vision vanished in a flash of bright light and they all staggered back. Cassandra was the first to recover, and she seemed furious as she closed the gap between herself and Nicholas.

"You _were_ there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?" She put her face in front of his, but Nicholas turned away as he shook his head.

"I don't remember!" he said for what felt like the millionth time. That much was true. Even after watching what had supposedly unfolded his mind could not piece together anything.

"Echoes of what happened here," Solas said, stepping between them. "The Fade bleeds into this place. The Rift is not sealed, but it is closed… albeit temporarily. I believe that with the Mark, the Rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the Rift will likely attract attention from the other side."

"That means demons," Cassandra called, not only to three right next to her but to all the soldiers that had circled the Temple. "Stand ready!" Leliana's archers readied their bows while Cullen's men that were fit to fight drew their swords and took a defensive stance.

Nicholas took a deep breath and flexed his left hand a few times before looking over to Cassandra. She gave him a nod and he returned it. It was time. He pointed the Mark at the Rift and willed power from within him to go into the Rift. It obeyed and the Rift greedily consumed the energy until it opened with a burst of light and heat that sent Nicholas sprawling back upon the ground. He stood quickly, notching an arrow. Out of the Rift came a demon, the largest Nicholas had ever seen. It easily stood ten feet tall, if not more, and was just as wide. It looked almost scaly, and had four horns twisting out of its head.

"Now!" Cassandra gave the order to attack and a volley of arrows rained down of the beast from all sides as those on the ground charged it with their swords. It let out an infuriated roar before cloaking itself in energy from the Rift.

"It has shielded itself!" Solas called out as he attempted to chip away at the demon's armor. Nicholas pointed his Mark at the Rift again, attempting to draw the energy out of it. The Rift was still too strong to collapse at the release of its energy, but he had managed to disrupt its flow of power enough to disarm the demon and stagger it. Solas gave him an approving nod before Varric yelled at him to attack and Nicholas did just that, firing every arrow in his quiver at the beast.

It may have been staggered, but it did not stay that way for long. Soldiers unfortunate enough to be too close to it found themselves picked up and either thrown or torn into pieces, spraying blood over other combatants.

"Kill this bastard!" Nicholas heard himself yell, throwing down his bow as he fired his law arrow. Quickly his eyes scanned the battlefield for any other weapon he could grab when he spied a short sword. Grabbing it he flanked around the demon while it was busy attacking other soldiers and found a spot in its leg where its natural armor had a few holes. Nicholas stabbed the sword into the fleshy part of the demon's leg as hard as he could, causing it to roar in pain and collapse upon the ground. Cassandra, sensing her moment, rushed to it and sheathed her sword into one of its several eyes. It let out another roar, clawing at its face, before collapsing in a heap upon the ground.

"Quickly, Trevelyan! Seal the Rift!" Solas's voice commanded Nicholas and he turned, forcing his Mark to react to the Rift for a third time. This time drawing out the energy was easier, but the Rift was incredibly large. Nicholas clenched his teeth together and willed the energy to keep flowing into him. The Rift finally collapsed with a bang, sending a ball of energy up towards the Breach above it. Nicholas watched the energy travel upward until it entered the Breach. Everything turned bright and hot, and then dark and cold.


	2. Chapter 2: Haven

Haven

Nicholas felt no pain, only peace. He was in clothes made from soft doe furs and lying on sweet-smelling meadow grass. The sun beat bright and warm down on him, but a gentle breeze kept him from getting too hot. Sounds filled the air around him: leaves rustling high above his head, various birds chirping as they flew through the sky, bees buzzing as they moved from flower to flower, and the soft, wispy sound of skirts moving across the grass.

"How long have I been dead?" The words came easily to Nicholas, as if he were simply asking when dinner was to be served. He opened his eyes and found himself looking up at a woman who was bending over him. Her face was indescribable, her features constantly shifting and changing, but always beautiful. She had long, flowing hair that reflected the sunlight in bursts of yellow, red, and orange. She smiled at him, and it filled him with joy. Nicholas could only smile back at the beautiful Andraste.

"Silly child. You are not dead; not yet. Only resting. You have done so much already, but more is needed of you." Her voice was melodious, soft and sweet with a haunting echo to it. Nicholas sat up and from his soft bed and frowned slightly.

"But… what else is there for me to do? I closed the Rift, right?" He looked down at his left hand and saw what looked to be a long black gash across his palm. Nicholas slid a finger across the ridges of the Mark and watched it begin to glow a soft green.

"The Maker does not share everything with me. It is time for you to return, my child. I… am sorry." Nicholas looked up at Andraste's face as her voice cracked with sadness. He was confused, wondering why she would be so sad. He opened his mouth to speak, but there was only darkness.

* * *

Nicholas jerked awake. His body burned and ached as if he had gotten into a fist fight in the middle of a bonfire. He was lying on what could loosely be called a mattress, though he would have described it as a sack of rocks. With his eyes still closed he took careful inventory of himself, making sure he could move each digit, toe, and limb before he risked finally looking around him.

He was in what appeared to be a one room wooden cabin. It was small, but cozy and surprisingly warm. A candle was burning on a wooden dresser next to his bed, but the rest of the cabin was illuminated by bright sunlight coming through a solitary window. There were various animal furs hanging upon the wall to keep the drafts out, a bookshelf—mostly empty—and a random hodgepodge of desks, dressers, crates, and barrels. A raven let out a _krawp_ and Nicholas raised an eye at the bird sitting in its cage on the floor. Was he going to have to take care of that thing?

Nicholas sat up and leaned upon his elbow as he heard the door open and the floorboards creak. In walked a female elf, a servant of some sorts. She did not immediately see him, as she was cooing to the raven, but when she turned her head to look at his bed she immediately gasped and took a step back.

"I didn't know you were awake! I swear!" she looked scared, but Nicholas was only confused. She was carrying a small wooden box, but he had no idea what could be inside.

"Don't worry about," he said reassuringly, startled as well. "I only just—"

The elf dropped the box upon the stone floor. It burst open and spilled a few herbs, but she paid it no mind as she collapsed to her knees and bowed before him. "I beg your forgiveness and your royal blessing. I am but a humble servant." Nicholas was confused and he sat up more, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as his brow furrowed. "You are back in Haven, my lord. They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like that Mark on your hand."

At the mention of his Mark, Nicholas looked at his left hand and saw a black gash cut across his palm. It felt like a callous and did not hurt, and it looked almost beautiful with the veins of green intersecting it. "So I did it? The Breach is stopped?" He glanced to the elf and they locked eyes, but she quickly looked back at the ground in embarrassment.

"It's all anyone has talked about for the last three days."

"Wha—three days?" Nicholas ran his fingers through his hair, his jaw clenched. He was getting tired of being knocked out more than being conscious. "So… I assume next comes my trial?"

"I know nothing about that, my lord," the elven girl said as she stood upon her slender legs. "I'm certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you've wakened. She said, 'at once.'"

"And where could I find her?" he asked, standing. The elf girl took several steps backwards, towards the door.

"In the chantry, with the Lord Chancellor. 'At once,' she said." Before he could ask anything else the elf dashed out of the cabin, slamming the door shut behind her. He could hear her shouting breathlessly to others outside that he had finally woken.

Nicholas looked down at what he had been dressed in. It was what appeared to be a fancy, expensive, cotton sleeping outfit. Adorned with silver buttons that sparkled and shined in the light it was the ugliest thing he had even worn. He turned to his dresser and saw a chest sitting beside it, where he could not see it from the bed. He opened it and found several items bundled within and a piece of parchment laying on top.

"To Ambassador Montilyet," Nicholas read out loud. _Montilyet? That royal family out of Antiva?_ "Enclosed you will find gear fit for a Trevelyan. If you must march him to Val Royeaux or bury him, please make sure Lord Nicholas wears this." _Well isn't this bloody cheerful?_ "Signed, Lord Gregory Trevelyan." _Uncle Gregory? The family has already received word of this? Maker guide me._

"Well, Uncle, let's see what you sent me at any rate." Nicholas dug into the chest and uncovered a fine set of steel armor with gilded dragon scales cascading down the arms and hanging down from the waist. On the chest was the family crest, a powerful looking white warhorse with a wind tussled mane. If we was going to have to face dear old Roderick again he was glad to at least look formidable.

Nicholas set aside the armor and pulled out the final package, two short swords. His mouth set into a grim line and he exhaled forcefully. This was not a simple present to make sure he was presentable; it was a message. The blades on the swords were a deep black that did not reflect the light, the hilt was hardened bone wrapped with leather. Altogether they were very beautiful and very haunting weapons. He doubted anyone this far south would recognize the importance of these swords. Many families in the Free Marches had forgotten long ago, or no longer considered them worth the respect they were truly due. They were family heirlooms, but not passed down from parent to child. These swords were given to whatever member of the main branch was to become the protector of the family.

Unlike his brother, Lucien, who was to be the Commander of the Family Guard, Nicholas had been training to be something of a spymaster for the family. It was not nearly as exciting or dangerous as it sounded, which disappointed him greatly as a child. It was to be his job to be a high level guard when discretion was key, such as at a ball… or the Conclave.

 _I was sent to the Conclave as a protector… But I failed. All my charges died. So why am I given these now?_ Nicholas sighed and set the swords beside the armor. He knew it was no mistake. His uncle did not make mistakes. It _was_ a message, however, and he feared he was not understanding it.

 _No sense worrying about it now_ , he thought as he removed the rather ugly attire he had been dressed in. _If I am to die it will be more ceremony than anything else. And if not, well, I'm sure Father will be in touch_.

Nicholas found a slightly dusty mirror leaning up against a wall and moved it so he could examine himself. He was a young man in his mid-thirties, and his body showed that. He was tall and muscular, not in the brawny way that his warrior brothers were, but in the wiry way of the rogues. He could shoot a bow as far as any elf and could slice through muscle and tendons with a blade while being swift and quick enough to dodge incoming blows from larger, slower foes. He had scars all over his body, but as he examined himself in the nude, he saw no new ones.

"How strange," he mused to himself, rolling his shoulders before putting on some small clothes, and beginning to don his new armor. "I certainly did not get out of that Temple mess unscathed. Perhaps Solas…? Or they have a talented potions maker here." Full in his armor, Nicholas took another look at himself and smiled. He looked quite stunning, if he could say so himself. He had always found pride in the way he looked

Where his body showed his youth, his face did not. Nicholas had an unfortunate habit of never wearing a helmet into battle as he did not want to sacrifice his field of view. This left him open to attacks, and he could not dodge all of them. He stepped closer to the mirror and looked into his own grey eyes, the color of slate. His hair was shaved on all sides except the top, which was kept—meticulously—several inches long. It used to be black, but time and stress had dulled it to a dark grey. His facial hair, usually kept a messy scruff, was even more greyed than his hair.

Nicholas ran a finger along a scar that crossed the right side of his head. It was deep and long and was his first. He had been in his late teens when a fearsome man had nearly decapitated him, and while Nicholas still had dreams about the fight, he had never heard the man's name again and as such assumed he was dead. Another scar, gotten in his early twenties, cut down from his left eyebrow to his cheek. He had almost lost an eye on that one, but he took the woman's life in retaliation. On his right cheek and bottom lip were two scars begotten in the same fight only three years ago. It was not a particularly interesting story, in fact it was one he tried to never tell. It's always embarrassing to have to tell others that your own foolish mistakes left you with a nasty reminder.

He sighed as he turned away from the mirror and looked back over at his swords. Their sheath was designed to connect to the chest plate of the armor so the swords would hang from the back. That was normal for many rogue sword setups, as was the fact that the sheath actually covered none of the blade. This was normally to allow for easier access, but in this case it was to strike fear into the hearts of opponents... Or, at least they would if he had them a few hundred years ago. Now they looked like decoration.

As he attached his weaponry to his armor and glanced back at himself in the mirror, the matte black stood out sharply against the shiny steel. _May the Maker have mercy on any man or beast that makes me draw these. May Andraste guide my blows to strike true. May mine enemies all go fuck themselves. Amen._

Satisfied that he looked equal parts dashing rogue and dangerous warrior, Nicholas opened the door to his cabin. A cold breeze and a swirl of snow upon his foyer was the welcome greeting of Haven, but as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight reflecting off the white snow he saw the villagers had their own greeting for him. They stood on either side of the dirt path that lead from his cabin to the rest of the village in large groups, all craning their necks to get a better look at him. Soldiers in full armor stood between the commoners and Nicholas, saluting as he stepped out of the cabin. He was aware that he was not moving, just staring at the people who were looking curiously back at him. In all his years he had never received such a welcome. It was extra shocking considering that just days before all these people wanted to see him executed.

Slowly his legs began to carry him forward and he heard snippets of conversation as he walked past the groups of Chanty sisters, villagers, bakers, butchers, shop keeps… Everyone was there to see him.

"That's him. That's the Herald of Andraste. They said when he came out of the Fade, Andraste herself was watching over him."

Nicholas's brow furrowed deeply, overhearing that from a young woman as he walked past. _Herald… of Andraste? Before I was a 'prisoner' and now I am a Herald?_ He continued down the path, the crowd making it very easy for him to find his way to the Chantry as they had all other routes blocked off.

"Why did Lady Cassandra have him in chains?" The words made Nicholas pause as he heard a young man speak. "I thought Seekers knew everything…" The doubt in the man's voice worried Nicholas. Now more than ever would these people need to put their trust in her. She was obviously a natural born leader, but if the people were afraid to follow her that would be all for naught.

"Who said that?" Nicholas asked, looking into the crowd. There was a moment of silence before a young human servant stepped out, looking ashamed. He lowered his head and refused to look upon Nicholas.

"Forgive me, Herald, if I have offended you. I just—"

"Hush, my friend," Nicholas's voice was gentle and he smiled softly. He knew how to win over a crowd; he was a Trevelyan after all. He could do as much before he learned to talk. "It was out of love for you, and all of Haven, that Lady Cassandra had me in chains. She wished to protect you all from more harm. I was the only logical suspect at the time, so it was natural that she took me as a prisoner. She has my forgiveness, and I pray yours as well."

"I… Of course, my lord." The man bowed low before slipping back into the crowd. There was silence as Nicholas walked the remaining way to the Chantry and he was relieved when the heavy doors shut behind him. It had been many years since he had to deal with the scrutiny of the public.

It felt strange walking through the Chantry again as a free man. There was no one inside the foyer to guide him to Cassandra, but he quickly found that unnecessary. From the back, behind thick stone walls and a wooden door, Nicholas could hear a heated debate between her and Chancellor Roderick.

"Have you gone completely mad?" _Oh, good, Roderick sounds furious. I can't wait to make his day worse._ "He should be chained up immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine!" _So I get a trial again, do I asshat?_ Nicholas reached the door and forcefully swung it open. He stepped inside the room, head held high and shoulders back, walking with the determination of a man ready to fight with either words or weapons.

Nicholas saw the Chancellor, Cassandra, and Leliana standing around a large table with a few books, candles, and mugs scattered upon it. As soon as the Chancellor saw Nicholas, he said to the guards at the door, "Chain him! I want him prepared for travel to the capital for trial." The Trevelyan gave a snort of derision as Cassandra spoke up.

"Disregard that, and leave us." She looked to Nicholas and he smirked, but she did not return it. Leliana stood with her arms crossed, so far silent, as the guards saluted and left the war room.

"You walk a dangerous line, Seeker." Roderick's voice held a note of venom, something that Nicholas did not appreciate.

"Are you threatening her, Chancellor?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

"You! You are dressed for war! You may be a Trevelyan, but you are surely not be trusted, marching in here in full armor with swords at your back," Roderick snapped at Nicholas, making the younger man clench his jaw.

"We have more pressing matters than Lord Trevelyan's wardrobe," Cassandra cut in sharply. "The Breach is stable, but still a threat. I will not ignore it." There was something about Cassandra that Nicholas admired. She was certainly a beautiful woman: sharp cheekbones; short, dark hair crowned with a braid; facial scars that seemed to make her more intimidating; a well-built body, that while perpetually covered in armor was still noticeable; but these were not what drew him to her. She had a flame burning in her, a sense of desire for something that made Nicholas want to help her achieve her goals. He only knew her a short time, but as they locked eyes he knew he'd follow her anywhere to help her close the damned Breach.

"I did everything I could to close that Breach," he said, joining with her against the Chancellor. "It almost killed me."

"Yet you live," Roderick sneered. "A convenient result, insofar as you're concerned."

"If you believe that I would not have given my life to close that Breach, then you are an even larger fool than I first thought." Roderick opened his mouth to retort, but Cassandra stepped in again.

" _Have a care, Chancellor_ ," she said, her voice holding a warning of imminent danger. It made the hairs on the back of Nicholas's neck stand up. "The Breach is not the only threat we face."

"Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect." Nicholas had forgotten Leliana was still in the room. Her quiet stillness was a remarkable quality, but one that he would have to remember. She may be an ally, but he still wanted to keep an eye on her. "Perhaps they died with the others—or have allies who yet live." She cast an accusing look upon Roderick, but even as much as Nicholas hated the old codger, he could not agree with her suspicions.

" _I_ am a suspect?"

"You, and many others."

"But _not_ the prisoner?"

"I am no longer your prisoner!" Nicholas said forcefully, reminding himself of his father when Bann Trevelyan had to put a lesser house into its place.

"I heard the voices in the Temple," Cassandra came to his aid once more. _Three against one? You've lost, Roderick, face it._ "The Divine called to him for help."

"So his survival, that _thing_ on his hand—all a coincidence?" Roderick was getting more agitated, his pale face beginning to turn a deep crimson.

"Providence." Cassandra sounded so sure of that. _Herald of Andraste…_ "The Maker sent him to us in our darkest hour." _Darkest hour… 'In The Darkest Hour'… How can she know? No, she doesn't. It is just a simple phrase to her._ Yet to him the phrase brought back once lost memories. His uncle's message was becoming more clear.

"'Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide.'" Nicholas's prayer came out softly, a whisper. Cassandra gave him a brief, barely-there smile, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"We lost everything…" her voice cracked, ever so slightly. The tiniest hint of emotion. "Then out of nowhere, you came." She turned her back on the table and walked towards a back wall where he could not see what she was doing.

"The Breach remains, and your Mark is still our only way of closing it." Leliana sounded so matter-of-fact, but Nicholas was not sure he'd ever have the power of closing the Breach. Not without killing himself, and even then that may not be enough.

"This is _not_ for you to decide." Roderick seemed to be unwilling to give up whatever modicum of power he controlled. It was an understandable effort, but a foolish one. These were powerful women he was up against. Nicholas doubted his voice did anything to help their efforts.

Cassandra returned to the table holding a large tome in her hands. It _thumped_ loudly upon the table as she slammed it down, startling Roderick. Nicholas peered over the table at the book. It was beautifully bound with red leather and silver accents, with a silver holy symbol of Andraste on the cover. Cassandra tapped the book with a finger as she said to Roderick, "You know what this is, Chancellor. A writ from the Devine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn."

Nicholas stood up straight and tall, like a soldier in the presence of his Commander. He wanted to support Cassandra in this, it was clearly important to her, but the Inquisition did not have a sterling reputation…

She began to walk towards Roderick, who was matching her step-by-step backwards. "We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval." She jammed a finger into his chest as she spoke, the strength in her words surprising Nicholas. This was not just a bold step, it was a leap off a cliff, and she swan dived. Roderick looked from her, to Leliana, to Nicholas, but he found no one willing to support him. With a scowl and a shake of his head he stormed from the room.

"This is the Divine's Directive," Leliana said softly, moving towards the book. "Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos. We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support."

"But we have no choice," Cassandra sighed. "We must act now." She looked to Nicholas and added, "With you at our side."

"I was taught the stories of the old Inquisition. They had lost sight and became a holy terror… But if you are truly trying to restore order…" Nicholas was cautious, unsure.

"That is the plan," Leliana nodded, watching him carefully.

"Help us fix this before it's too late." Cassandra extended a hand to him.

"Let it never be said that I was too craven to do my duty." He reached out and grasped Cassandra's gloved hand. She had a strong grip and shook firmly. As they released each other's hands she gave him a crooked smile.

* * *

Several days had passed after Cassandra publicly declared the Inquisition. Those days had been spent by waking up early before the sun and going to bed long after it had set. Nicholas spent most of his time with Cassandra, Leliana, Cullen, and Ambassador Montilyet whose first name he found out was Josephine. They poured over the book, wrote letters to possible allies, and attempted to formulate early plans. Nicholas was silent for most of this and was rarely asked to contribute, but he attended each meeting all the same. Cullen and Cassandra oversaw the advanced training of what little troops the Inquisition had, while Nicholas helped Josephine replace the Chantry standards with those of the Inquisition: Andraste's eye intersected by the Blade of Mercy. All the while, the Breach still hung in the sky, a distinct reminder that whatever or whoever had caused the explosion was still at large.

* * *

"Does it trouble you?" Cassandra and Nicholas were walking to the Chantry for yet another meeting after a much needed sparring match. They had both used blunted training weapons and fought for several hours until they were sweaty and exhausted, enjoying the break from boring meetings where there was a lot of talk but very little being said. The two of them agreed that nothing cleared the mind better than trying to beat the shit out of each other without actually hurting one another. Well… he was sure that he didn't hurt Cassandra at all as the role of a rogue's swords were to slice rather than bash. Her longsword, on the other hand, left some bruises on him even through his armor. Not that he was complaining.

Nicholas clenched and relaxed his gloved left hand and shrugged. "Not any more, no. It tingles sometimes, but I'll take that over it consuming me." He smiled and she smirked.

"We take our victories where we can. What's important is that your Mark is now stable, as is the Breach. You've given us time, and Solas believes a second attempt might succeed—provided the Mark has more power." Clearly she had been paying more attention to Solas's reports that he had. His copy was somewhere in his cabin, and Nicholas had the sneaking suspicion that it lined the bottom of the raven's cage…

"That Breach isn't like the Rifts, and even the large Rift gave me a bit of an issue. How much power am I going to need for that?"

"The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. This is not easy to come by."

Nicholas let out a laugh, Cassandra raising an eyebrow in return. "What harm could there be in powering up something we barely understand, or even better—giving that power to someone you know virtually nothing about? Sounds like fun to me!"

Cassandra shook her head and gave him a smile, the largest he had seen from her so far. "Hold on to that sense of humor."

"Do you think it will help me gain the power needed? Or are you attracted to my undeniable wit?"

"No, I just remembered Empress Celene was looking for a new court jester..."

Nicholas laughed again as they reached the door leading to the War room. "Ah, Seeker, you wound me." She just kept her smirk as she opened the door. Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen were already waiting for them, pouring over a large map of Thedas spread across the table.

"I mentioned to Nicholas about his Mark needing more power to close the Breach." Cassandra was never one to beat around the bush that was for sure.

"Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help," Leliana argued. Nicholas wanted to groan out loud. _For the love of the Maker, not this debate again. I will go out right now and close the Breach through sheer willpower alone if it means I don't have to listen to this._

"And I still disagree," Cullen chimed in as Nicholas screamed internally. "The Templars could serve just as well."

"We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that Mark—" Nicholas cut Cassandra off, not able to stomach one more word of the same rehashed argument that he heard countless times before.

"Could kill me in the most horrific way ever witnessed in this age."

"It may also destroy us all," Cullen added, siding with Nicholas. "Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so—"

"Of course that is all speculation. We have no idea what effect, if any, the Templars could have upon the Breach." Nicholas felt a red heat rise up from his neck to his face. This was getting them nowhere.

" _I_ was a Templar. I know what they're capable of," Cullen frowned, shaking his head.

"Yes, against magic. Normal magic. Not a massive fucking hole in the sky!" Their eyes looked hard upon Nicholas and he took several deep breaths to calm himself down. "Now I am sick and tired of wasting what precious little time we have left. While we sit here trying to figure out which pissed off group is going to want to join our band of misfits and outcasts, whoever caused the explosion is still out there and I can guarantee they are NOT standing around having this conversation for the hundredth time!"

There was silence in the room as Cullen, Cassandra, and Leliana examined the map of Thedas, though Nicholas had the feeling they were not taking in the topography as much as they were mulling over what he said. Josephine was the first to speak again.

"Lord Trevelyan has a point. For now this debate is moot—neither group will even speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition—and you, specifically." She pointed at Nicholas with her quill and he a let out a humorless laugh.

"They still think I'm guilty, eh?" That didn't even anger him. He scratched the top of his head, not surprised at how petty the Chantry was being. He wondered what his cousins in the order were thinking right now, having to public denounce their own blood. He was sure it wounded them, but Nicholas knew he would be able to count on them for inside support.

"That is not the entirety of it any longer." Josephine looked down at her notes that she carried with her almost everywhere. "More have taken to calling you the 'Herald of Andraste,' and that frightens the Chantry. The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you."

"I am surprised the Chantry would take such a strong stance against me considering how much money and man power the Trevelyan family has poured into it and the Templars. They must really be scared."

"It is Chancellor Roderick's doing, no doubt." Nicholas had a feeling that what Cassandra said was the truth. Leave it to the codger to do something so bold and foolish.

Josephine shrugged. "At any rate it limits our options. Approaching the mages or Templars for help is currently out of the question."

"Will the Chantry be a threat militarily?" Nicholas asked, looking over at Josephine. She had the olive colored skin tones and black hair of those native to Antiva. Her hair was tied into a tight bun at the back of her head. Her dress was made of gold silk and blue cotton, looking incredibly expensive. He was sure there was no one in Thedas better suited to be their Ambassador.

"With what?" Cullen asked rhetorically. He was pale man with a few facial scars that did not stand out against his skin, unlike Nicholas. He had light blonde hair that flowed down to his neck, but was pushed back out of his face. His armor suited a man of his high rank. It was heavy steel trimmed with fur, both warm and comfortable. Nicholas only had the latter, though he supposed that was more important. "They have only words at their disposal."

"And yet they may hurt us with them," Josephine cut in. The Trevelyans fought most of their battles with words—Nicholas knew just how dangerous they could be.

"There is something you can do," Leliana spoke to Nicholas. She too was pale, her skin flawless. Strands of her red hair could be seen beneath her hood, but he really had no idea what she truly looked like. That was typical of a good spymaster, but Leliana was something more…

"Please, tell. I am ready to help."

"A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable."

"I will go see what she has to say. Even one ally among the Chantry can weaken them as a resistance."

"You will find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe."

"Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition's influence while you are there," Cullen added.

"We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley, and you're better suited than anyone to recruit them," Josephine chimed in.

"I don't know, Lady Pentaghast has been rather… persuasive," Nicholas chuckled, eliciting a sound of disgust from Cassandra.

"In the meantime," she said, sounding as if she very much wanted to return to the practice yard. "Let's think of other options. I won't leave this all to the Herald."

Cassandra, Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine poured over the large map, arguing about allies, gold, and strategy. Nicholas sat at a table in the corner, looking over a smaller map of the Hinterlands, making notes of camps, places of interest, and important landmarks. He was so engrossed in his own study that he did not even notice that others had finished until Cassandra came up beside him and leaned upon the table.

"Who are you planning on taking with you?" she asked, looking over the notes he had scrawled in a neat, flowing hand.

"A small party of four will be ideal. Just the right size to travel without causing much stir or drawing attention to any hostile forces, but large enough to be a dangerous power if attacked. As for who…" Nicholas sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at her. She looked so comfortable and casual, discussing strategy with him. Her features were illuminated by the dull glow of his single candle, casting a softness on her features that made his heart jump. "Well… I suppose my options are quite limited. Cullen and Leliana are out of the question, as are any of the troops we have here—I will not be playing a wet nurse to greenhorns. That leaves you, Solas, and Varric."

She frowned at the last name. "I may not approve, but I have to agree."

"What is it with you and Varric?" Nicholas asked, not taking his eyes from her. Her features darkened and her frown turned into a scowl.

"It is… complicated. I suppose the short story is that I took him in for questioning regarding the Champion of Kirkwall, and he has proved most useless."

"Ah, I see," Nicholas chuckled.

"I see nothing funny with it!" Her scowl turned to him, but it only endeared Nicholas more.

"Very well, very well. If it makes you feel better, think of it as me bringing Bianca along with Varric being an unfortunate side effect."

"More that Varric's mouth and wit being the side effect. I cannot say that I look forward to traveling with _two_ men who don't appreciate silence."

"Why must you hurt me so?" Nicholas said with a smile as he stood, taking his notes with him while the two walked out of the war room. He was about to ask Cassandra if she wanted to spar some more when he heard an angry Orlesian and Josephine arguing in a room nearby. "I better make sure everything is okay in there." He said a farewell to the Seeker before sticking his head in the room. It was an office that Josephine shared with a strange female elven mage that Nicholas had never bothered to talk to. She seemed uneasy around him, and quite honestly he was unesy around her.

"The Inquisition _cannot_ remain, Ambassador, if you can't prove it was founded on Justinia's orders." The noble looked utterly ridiculous to Nicholas, but then again all Orlesians did to Free Marchers. He had on a hideous black and yellow checkered suit with an equally offensive black and yellow mask.

"This is an inopportune time, Marquis. More of the faithful flock here each day." Josephine had a delicate tone that she used with all visiting dignitaries, but he could tell she was losing her patience. Frankly, he didn't blame her. _Better go save the Ambassador before the Marquis comes up missing._ He walked into the room and she looked at him, grateful smile on her face. "But allow me to introduce you to the brave soul who risked his life to slow the magic of the Breach. Ser Trevelyan, may I present the Marquis DuRellion, one of Divine Justinia's greatest supporters—"

"And the rightful owner of Haven," the Marquis quickly cut in, stepping towards Nicholas. While he never had to go through all training his brother did in preparation for becoming the head of the main branch of the family, Nicholas knew how to handle himself like a proper, self-entitled noble. He was thankful that he was wearing his shiny dragon scale armor, the Trevelyan crest bright and prominent on the front. He stood tall, his face angled slightly upward, with a look on his face as if he were speaking to someone from a lower house.

"House DuRellion lent Justinia these lands for a pilgrimage. This 'Inquisition' is not a beneficiary of that arrangement," the Marquis continued. Nicholas knew absolutely nothing about what this man was saying. He had a feeling that it was not the whole truth, but even if it was, they could not afford to pack up and leave.

"Marquis DuRellion… This is the first I have heard about Haven having an owner outside of the Chantry." Nicholas's voice was always deep, but when he spoke to the Marquis he made it even deeper. It was a trick he had learned from his father to make people of the upper class listen.

"Yes… well… my wife, Lady Machen of Denerim, has claim to Haven by ancient treaty with the monarchs of Ferelden. We were honored to lend its use to Divine Justinia. She is… she was a woman of supreme merit. I will _not_ let an upstart order remain on her Holy Grounds." At his last sentence the Marquis moved even closer to Nicholas, putting his finger in the younger man's face. The Herald narrowed his eyes at the Marquis, daring him to move just a hair's breadth closer.

"Interesting, considering the Inquisition was _begun_ by the Left and Right Hands of the Divine," Nicholas replied. His voice held a hint of danger, something the Marquis picked up as he wisely took a step backwards.

"I've seen no written records from Sister Leliana _or_ Seeker Pentaghast that Justinia approved the Inquisition." The Marquis was proving as stubborn and annoying as Roderick. He wasn't sure how Josephine managed to deal with these people and still be so upbeat. She looked to Nicholas and began to speak in a matter-of-fact tone.

"If he won't take her at her word, I'm afraid Seeker Pentaghast must challenge him to a duel."

"Yes, I quite agree. That is the only possible course of action from here," Nicholas nodded solemnly.

"W-what?" the Marquis seemed rather taken aback, much to the pleasure of both Nicholas and Josephine.

"It is a matter of honor among the Nevarrans," she said, taking out a quill and beginning to write upon her notes. "Shall I arrange the bout for tonight?"

"No!" The Marquis threw up his hands. "No. Perhaps my reaction to the Inquisition's presence was somewhat hasty." He sighed and shook his head, finding himself to be thoroughly defeated.

"We face a dark time, Your Grace. Divine Justinia would not want her passing to divide us." _Damn, Josie is really good at this_. "She would, in fact, trust us to forge new alliances to the benefit of all, not matter how strange they might seem."

The Marquis was silent for a long moment. He let out another, softer sigh, before saying quietly, "I'll think on it, Lady Montilyet. The Inquisition may stay in the meanwhile." He walked out of the room, shoulders slumped. Nicholas gave him a parting nod but it was not returned. After he left, the Herald turned to look at Josie with a smile on his face. She returned it before moving to sit behind her desk.

"Well, I'm pleased the Marquis isn't tossing us out into the cold," he said, relaxing his voice and demeanor. No need to act like a tosspot with her.

"His Grace is only the first of many dignitaries that we must contend with." She seemed so exhausted, but still held herself incredibly well.

"You expect more people in Haven?" _How many more can this village hold?_

"Undoubtedly. And each visitor will spread the story of the Inquisition after they depart. An ambassador should ensure that the tale is as complimentary as possible."

"The Inquisition is lucky to have you as an advocate, Lady Montilyet." Nicholas gave her a respectful bow, truly meaning his words. If they did not have her he was not sure the Inquisition could even exist.

"Thank you," she smiled. "Let us hope so. Thedas's politics have become… agitated as of late. I hope to guide us down smoother paths."

"Montilyet… You know, I swear our families have met before." Nicholas leaned against the back of a chair in front of her desk. He had never had the chance to talk to the Ambassador before, one on one. They had both been incredibly busy.

"Perhaps. Everyone of distinction in the Free Marches attends Lady Trevelyan's summer balls."

"Ah, yes… Great-Aunt Lucille always does love a party." Nicholas did not agree with those sentiments, however, and his voice betrayed his feeling.

"I don't recall seeing you at any of them," Josephine mused with a smile.

"Attend one ball and you'll fend off invites for a dozen more," he shrugged. "Besides, I am the youngest of the main house. My brother, Maxwell, he always had to attend. No sense in us both being miserable."

"I do remember Maxwell," she said thoughtfully. "How is he?"

"Still single, as far as I know." Nicholas laughed at a red blush that crept into her face, but she did not chide him for it.

"That reminds me," she said, clearing her throat. "The 'Herald of Andraste' has received several invitations from the curious."

"To parties?" Nicholas was horrified. "How many am I getting?"

"Only seventeen this month, I'm afraid."

"What an outrage!" Josephine laughed at his fake anger.

There was silence between them for a moment before he asked, in a serious voice. "Tell me… Do you believe I was saved by Andraste at the Temple of Sacred Ashes?"

"I should like to believe so, Your Worship." Nicholas grimaced at that.

"Please… Just 'Nicholas'."

"The miracles Andraste performed were so long ago, they're difficult to picture. If it were truly Her in the Fade that saved you… Well, in any case, many already believe you walk in the Maker's light."

"Perhaps. If nothing else it is good for moral. And my family? Justifies to them that generations of devout worship are finally coming true." He gave a grim, humorless smile. There was another pause of silence and Nicholas was about to make his leave when she spoke.

"While I have you here, I was hoping to discuss your parents."

"A little sudden," he chuckled with a genuine smile, "But I suppose it's time _someone_ made an honest man of me. Thought for sure you had your eye on Maxwell, though…"

"What? Oh, very amusing. This is serious, _Nicholas_. I'd like to dispatch a courier asking the Banns of House Trevelyan to align themselves with us. What are your thoughts? Should we approach your family for their formal support of the Inquisition?"

"Are you seriously asking this?" he laughed, but quieted down at her unamused look. "It's an excellent idea, Lady Montilyet. The Trevelyans are known for two things: Lady Trevelyan's parties, and how zealous we are in our faith. Write to them asking to help the Inquisition and the _Trevelyan_ 'Herald of Andraste' and you won't be able to stop them from throwing gold at you. Not all of the lesser branches are wealthy, but what they can't provide by monetary means will surely be supplied through manpower. I have many cousins in the Chantry, as well. I can provide you a list of them to contact at your leisure."

"If I am not mistaken, there are Trevelyans in the Templars, no?"

Nicholas sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Only problem with that is unless they were at the Ostwick Circle, we've lost all contact with them. Letters have been going in, but none coming back. We're not even sure if they are reaching them. My Uncle has made inquiries, but so far we've been met with silence, at best. Whatever is going on with the Templars, it's not good. The same goes for the mages. A few have replied to family, but most have gone silent."

"That is unfortunate. I am very sorry for your family; this must be a rough time." Josephine's concern touched him, but would perhaps not be welcome to his family. They preferred to deal with problems on their own.

"I would… refrain from mentioning the Templars at all in your letter to my parents. My sister, Evelyn, is one that we lost contact with. It is a sensitive topic for them."

"Noted, thank you," she scribbled down a few lines onto her parchment before continuing. "Val Royeaux has noted your lineage. It gives the Inquisition some legitimacy, although not as much as we'd hoped."

Nicholas arched an eyebrow. "And why not?"

"You _are_ from Ostwick. Orlesian nobles consider the Free Marches somewhat… Quaint."

"Orlais has a proper Empire," he said, disregarding the Orlesians' opinions. "The Free Marches don't unite until Darkspawn are knocking at our door."

"No one doubts their ferocity when it happens. Free Marchers are renowned for their tenacity. Speaking of which… I should thank you for your patience with your simple quarters. The accommodations are surely rough for someone of your birth."

"Why, Ambassador, I think I'm insulted," Nicholas said with a mocking frown. "I have found my accommodations to be quite cozy, actually. I was a bit surprised to see that I have my own raven, but Lord Squawks and I have been getting along famously. Besides, it beats a simple tent in the middle of the wilderness."

Josephine smiled and shook her head. "Your optimism knows no bounds, Lord Trevelyan. Thank you for your help and answers. I must get back to work."

* * *

"Ugh. Remind me again why were are _here_." Cassandra sat beside Nicholas in the village tavern, Solas and Varric seated across from them. Varric and Nicholas were both on their second mugs of ale while the other two had nothing. A map of the Hinterlands was spread out on the table between them, complete with Nicholas's notes and few of Cassandra's.

"I needed a drink," the Trevelyan said with a smile at her annoyance. "Come on, Seeker, you love drunks and tavern music."

"I do not! I would rather be out hitting something right now… preferably you."

"Oh, stop! You're making me blush." He and Varric chuckled as she let out another disgusted sound.

"As much fun as we're all having," Solas said, shifting uncomfortably in his wooden seat. "Why don't we get started?"

"Oh, alright." Nicholas pulled out a dagger and stabbed it down onto the map. The point stuck in the table, leaving it standing upright. " _This_ is where Leliana's agents are waiting to meet us. Scout Harding is going to be giving us a quick debrief on the area, Mother Giselle, and reports of Templar and rogue mage activity. I've seen a few messages that have come in and it sounds dire. Neither the Templars nor the mages seem to care who they kill anymore, and there have even been rumors of Rifts opening up. Make sure you have enough health potions—camps are going to be few and far between."

"You make quite the leader, Prisoner," Varric said with a smile. Nicholas was incredibly annoyed when he came to the realization that the nickname had stuck, but by now he was beginning to accept it… to a point.

"Well, Short Stack, this isn't my first expedition." Nicholas gave him a shit eating grin right back, and Varric laughed. Cassandra groaned and Solas sighed, but he and Varric had really hit it off, spending whatever free evenings they had together in the tavern.

"We should also discuss field position," Nicholas continued after draining his mug. "Solas and Varric, I want you two near the back behind Cassandra and I. I'm going to lead—my eye sight is better than Cassandra's, even if she protests." He heard her huff beside him. "If we happen to be surrounded, Solas you focus on the enemies closest to you and I will move back to help you. Varric, you help Cassandra with whatever foe she is engaging."

"If I get a crossbow bolt in my side, Varric, I will find you a new quiver… And you won't like it." Nicholas put his head down on the table and tried to stifle his laugh, though his shaking shoulders gave it away. He could feel Cassandra burning holes into the back of his head with her glare, but he couldn't help it. All he could picture was Varric, looking like a quillback was attempting to crawl up his ass with Cassandra nearby, glowering.

"Don't worry, Seeker. I wouldn't want to make Bianca jealous by having her think I've found a new woman." When Nicholas sat up and wiped the tears from his eyes he saw Varric smiling into his mug and Cassandra looking as if she wanted to throw both of them into the frozen lake.

"Alright you crazy kids, get out of here and get some rest. We leave at first light," he said, trying to put on his best Commander voice, but he faltered when he got another glare from Cassandra.

"I am not a _kid,_ " she grumbled under her breath.

"No, you're the 'crazy' part," Varric chimed in, laughing as he stood and wisely left the tavern before the Seeker could get her hands on him. She too left without a word though gave them all a parting scowl.

"Why do you encourage them?" Solas asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"It's easier to do that than get them to hug and play nice. Besides, if I didn't think they'd work well together when I needed them to I wouldn't have them both here." Nicholas pried his dagger from the table before rolling up the map. He wanted to go to sleep, but Solas was still sitting there staring at him. "Do you have any more questions?"

"You are worried," he said so matter-of-factly. Nicholas looked at him long and hard before sighing.

"I'm not afraid of the mission, Solas."

"I didn't say 'afraid,' I said 'worried.' You are deeply concerned for our well-being."

"Should I not be? Listen, it's late, whatever you're getting at please… just get there."

"I am simply surprised, is all. We are rather seasoned and yet you take the time to remind us to rest and pack potions. You sit us down and go over the map, you even detail combat strategy. That is more than most would bother with."

"Yeah, well, if I have to carry one of you back to Haven I'll be pissed." Nicholas stood and gave a Solas a bit of a wave. "See you in the morning."


End file.
